*The Curse of Macha*
The centre of interest in Irish legend now shifts from Tara to Ulster, and
a multitude of heroic tales gather round the Ulster king Conor mac Nessa,
round Cuchulain,(132) his great vassal, and the Red Branch Order of
chivalry, which had its seat in Emain Macha.
The legend of the foundation of Emain Macha has already been told.(133)
But Macha, who was no mere woman, but a supernatural being, appears again
in connexion with the history of Ulster in a very curious tale which was
supposed to account for the strange debility or helplessness that at
critical moments sometimes fell, it was believed, upon the warriors of the
province.
The legend tells that a wealthy Ulster farmer named Crundchu, son of
Agnoman, dwelling in a solitary place among the hills, found one day in
his dūn a young woman of great beauty and in splendid array, whom he had
never seen before. Crundchu, we are told, was a widower, his wife having
died after bearing him four sons. The strange woman, without a word, set
herself to do the houshold tasks, prepared dinner, milked the cow, and
took on herself all the duties of the mistress of the household. At night
she lay down at Crundchu’s side, and thereafter dwelt with him as his
wife; and they loved each other dearly. Her name was Macha.
One day Crundchu prepared himself to go to a great fair or assembly of the
Ultonians, where there would be feasting and horse-racing, tournaments and
music, and merrymaking of all kinds. Macha begged her husband not to go.
He persisted. “Then,” she said, “at least do not speak of me in the
assembly, for I may dwell with you only so long as I am not spoken of.”
It has been observed that we have here the earliest appearance in
post-classical European literature of the well-known motive of the fairy
bride who can stay with her mortal lover only so long as certain
conditions are observed, such as that he shall not spy upon her, ill-treat
her, or ask of her origin.
Crundchu promised to obey the injunction, and went to the festival. Here
the two horses of the king carried off prize after prize in the racing,
and the people cried: “There is not in Ireland a swifter than the King’s
pair of horses.”
“I have a wife at home,” said Crundchu, in a moment of forgetfulness, “who
can run quicker than these horses.”
“Seize that man,” said the angry king, “and hold him till his wife be
brought to the contest.”
So messengers went for Macha, and she was brought before the assembly; and
she was with child. The king bade her prepare for the race. She pleaded
her condition. “I am close upon my hour,” she said. “Then hew her man in
pieces,” said the king to his guards. Macha turned to the bystanders.
“Help me,” she cried, “for a mother hath borne each of you! Give me but a
short delay till I am delivered.” But the king and all the crowd in their
savage lust for sport would hear of no delay. “Then bring up the horses,”
said Macha, “and because you have no pity a heavier infamy shall fall upon
you.” So she raced against the horses, and outran them, but as she came to
the goal she gave a great cry, and her travail seized her, and she gave
birth to twin children. As she uttered that cry, however, all the
spectators felt themselves seized with pangs like her own and had no more
strength than a woman in her travail. And Macha prophesied: “From this
hour the shame you have wrought on me will fall upon each man of Ulster.
In the hours of your greatest need ye shall be weak and helpless as women
in childbirth, and this shall endure for five days and four nights—to the
ninth generation the curse shall be upon you.” And so it came to pass; and
this is the cause of the Debility of the Ultonians that was wont to
afflict the warriors of the province.
*Conor mac Nessa*
The chief occasion on which this Debility was manifested was when Maev,
Queen of Connacht, made the famous Cattle-raid of Quelgny (_Tain Bo
Cuailgné_), which forms the subject of the greatest tale in Irish
literature. We have now to relate the preliminary history leading up to
this epic tale and introducing its chief characters.
Fachtna the Giant, King of Ulster, had to wife Nessa, daughter of Echid
Yellow-heel, and she bore him a son named Conor. But when Fachtna died
Fergus son of Roy, his half-brother, succeeded him, Conor being then but a
youth. Now Fergus loved Nessa, and would have wedded her, but she made
conditions. “Let my son Conor reign one year,” she said, “so that his
posterity may be the descendants of a king, and I consent.” Fergus agreed,
and young Conor took the throne. But so wise and prosperous was his rule
and so sagacious his judgments that, at the year’s end, the people,as
Nessa foresaw, would have him remain king; and Fergus, who loved the feast
and the chase better than the toils of kingship, was content to have it
so, and remained at Conor’s court for a time, great, honoured, and happy,
but king no longer.
*The Red Branch*
In his time was the glory of the “Red Branch” in Ulster, who were the
offspring of Ross the Red, King of Ulster, with collateral relatives and
allies, forming ultimately a kind of warlike Order. Most of the Red Branch
heroes appear in the Ultonian Cycle of legend, so that a statement of
their names and relationships may be usefully placed here before we
proceed to speak of their doings. It is noticeable that they have a partly
supernatural ancestry. Ross the Red, it is said, wedded a Danaan woman,
Maga, daughter of Angus Ōg.(134) As a second wife he wedded a maiden named
Roy. His descendants are as follows:
Maga === Ross the Red === Roy
| |
| +-----+
| |
Fachtna === Nessa Fergus mac Roy
the Giant |
|
|
Conor mac
Nessa
But Maga was also wedded to the Druid Cathbad, and by him had three
daughters, whose descendants played a notable part in the Ultonian
legendary cycle.
Cathbad === Maga
|
+--------------------+-----+-------------+
| | |
Dectera[*] === Lugh Elva === Usna Finchoom === Amorgin
| | |
| +-----+-----+ |
| | | | |
Cuchulain Naisi Ainlé Ardan Conall of the
Victories
[*]Dectera also had a mortal husband, Sualtam, who passed as
Cuchulain’s father.
*Birth of Cuchulain*
It was during the reign of Conor mac Nessa that the birth of the mightiest
hero of the Celtic race, Cuchulain, came about, and this was the manner of
it. The maiden Dectera, daughter of Cathbad, with fifty young girls, her
companions at the court of Conor, one day disappeared, and for three years
no searching availed to discover their dwelling-place or their fate. At
last one summer day a flock of birds descended on the fields about Emain
Macha and began to destroy the crops and fruit. The king, with Fergus and
others of his nobles, went out against them with slings, but the birds
flew only a little way off, luring the party on and on till at last they
found themselves near the Fairy Mound of Angus on the river Boyne. Night
fell, and the king sent Fergus with a party to discover some habitation
where they might sleep. A hut was found, where they betook themselves to
rest, but one of them, exploring further, came to a noble mansion by the
river, and on entering it was met by a young man of splendid appearance.
With the stranger was a lovely woman, his wife, and fifty maidens, who
saluted the Ulster warrior with joy. And he recognised in them Dectera and
her maidens, whom they had missed for three years, and in the glorious
youth Lugh of the Long Arm, son of Ethlinn. He went back with his tale to
the king, who immediately sent for Dectera to come to him. She, alleging
that she was ill, requested a delay; and so the night passed; but in the
morning there was found in the hut among the Ulster warriors a new-born
male infant. It was Dectera’s gift to Ulster, and for this purpose she had
lured them to the fairy palace by the Boyne. The child was taken home by
the warriors and was given to Dectera’s sister, Finchoom, who was then
nursing her own child, Conall, and the boy’s name was called Setanta. And
the part of Ulster from Dundalk southward to Usna in Meath, which is
called the Plain of Murthemney, was allotted for his inheritance, and in
later days his fortress and dwelling-place was in Dundalk.
It is said that the Druid Morann prophesied over the infant: “His praise
will be in the mouths of all men; charioteers and warriors, kings and
sages will recount his deeds; he will win the love of many. This child
will avenge all your wrongs; he will give combat at your fords, he will
decide all your quarrels.”
*The Hound of Cullan*
When he was old enough the boy Setanta went to the court of Conor to be
brought up and instructed along with the other sons of princes and
chieftains. It was now that the event occurred from which he got the name
of Cuchulain, by which he was hereafter to be known.
One afternoon King Conor and his nobles were going to a feast to which
they were bidden at the dūn of a wealthy smith named Cullan, in Quelgny,
where they also meant to spend the night. Setanta was to accompany them,
but as the cavalcade set off he was in the midst of a game of hurley with
his companions and bade the king go forward, saying he would follow later
when his play was done. The royal company arrived at their destination as
night began to fall. Cullan received them hospitably, and in the great
hall they made merry over meat and wine while the lord of the house barred
the gates of his fortress and let loose outside a huge and ferocious dog
which every night guarded the lonely mansion, and under whose protection,
it was said, Cullan feared nothing less than the onset of an army.
But they had forgotten Setanta! In the middle of the laughter and music of
the feast a terrible sound was heard which brought every man to his feet
in an instant. It was the tremendous baying of the hound of Cullan, giving
tongue as it saw a stranger approach. Soon the noise changed to the howls
of a fierce combat, but, on rushing to the gates, they saw in the glare of
the lanterns a young boy and the hound lying dead at his feet. When it
flew at him he had seized it by the throat and dashed its life out against
the side-posts of the gate. The warriors bore in the lad with rejoicing
and wonder, but soon the triumph ceased, for there stood their host,
silent and sorrowful over the body of his faithful friend, who had died
for the safety of his house and would never guard it more.
“Give me,” then said the lad Setanta, “a whelp of that hound, O Cullan,
and I will train him to be all to you that his sire was. And until then
give me shield and spear and I will myself guard your house; never hound
guarded it better than I will.”
And all the company shouted applause at the generous pledge, and on the
spot, as a commemoration of his first deed of valour, they named the lad
Cuchulain,(135) the Hound of Cullan, and by that name he was known until
he died.
*Cuchulain Assumes Arms*
When he was older, and near the time when he might assume the weapons of
manhood, it chanced one day that he passed close by where Cathbad the
Druid was teaching to certain of his pupils the art of divination and
augury. One of them asked of Cathbad for what kind of enterprise that same
day might be favourable; and Cathbad, having worked a spell of divination,
said: “The youth who should take up arms on this day would become of all
men in Erin most famous for great deeds, yet will his life be short and
fleeting.” Cuchulain passed on as though he marked it not, and he came
before the king. “What wilt thou?” asked Conor. “To take the arms of
manhood,” said Cuchulain. “So be it,” said the king, and he gave the lad
two great spears. But Cuchulain shook them in his hand, and the staves
splintered and broke. And so he did with many others; and the chariots in
which they set him to drive he broke to pieces with stamping of his foot,
until at last the king’s own chariot of war and his two spears and sword
were brought to the lad, and these he could not break, do what he would;
so this equipment he retained.
*His Courtship of Emer*
The young Cuchulain was by this grown so fair and noble a youth that every
maid or matron on whom he looked was bewitched by him, and the men of
Ulster bade him take a wife of his own. But none were pleasing to him,
till at last he saw the lovely maiden Emer, daughter of Forgall, the lord
of Lusca,(136) and he resolved to woo her for his bride. So he bade
harness his chariot, and with Laeg, his friend and charioteer, he
journeyed to Dūn Forgall.
As he drew near, the maiden was with her companions, daughters of the
vassals of Forgall, and she was teaching them embroidery, for in that art
she excelled all women. She had “the six gifts of womanhood—the gift of
beauty, the gift of voice, the gift of sweet speech, the gift of
needlework, the gift of wisdom, and the gift of chastity.”
Hearing the thunder of horse-hoofs and the clangour of the chariot from
afar, she bade one of the maidens go to the rampart of the Dūn and tell
her what she saw. “A chariot is coming on,” said the maiden, “drawn by two
steeds with tossing heads, fierce and powerful; one is grey, the other
black. They breathe fire from their jaws, and the clods of turf they throw
up behind them as they race are like a flock of birds that follow in their
track. In the chariot is a dark, sad man, comeliest of the men of Erin. He
is clad in a crimson cloak, with a brooch of gold, and on his back is a
crimson shield with a silver rim wrought with figures of beasts. With him
as his charioteer is a tall, slender, freckled man with curling red hair
held by a fillet of bronze, with plates of gold at either side of his
face. With a goad of red gold he urges the horses.”
When the chariot drew up Emer went to meet Cuchulain and saluted him. But
when he urged his love upon her she told him of the might and the wiliness
of her father Forgall, and of the strength of the champions that guarded
her lest she should wed against his will. And when he pressed her more she
said: “I may not marry before my sister Fial, who is older than I. She is
with me here—she is excellent in handiwork.” “It is not Fial whom I love,”
said Cuchulain. Then as they were conversing he saw the breast of the
maiden over the bosom of her smock, and said to her: “Fair is this plain,
the plain of the noble yoke.” “None comes to this plain,” said she, “who
has not slain his hundreds, and thy deeds are still to do.”
So Cuchulain then left her, and drove back to Emain Macha.
*Cuchulain in the Land of Skatha*
Next day Cuchulain bethought himself how he could prepare himself for war
and for the deeds of heroism which Emer had demanded of him. Now he had
heard of a mighty woman-warrior named Skatha, who dwelt in the Land of
Shadows,(137) and who could teach to young heroes who came to her
wonderful feats of arms. So Cuchulain went overseas to find her, and many
dangers he had to meet, black forests and desert plains to traverse,
before he could get tidings of Skatha and her land. At last he came to the
Plain of Ill-luck, where he could not cross without being mired in its
bottomless bogs or sticky clay, and while he was debating what he should
do he saw coming towards him a young man with a face that shone like the
sun,(138) and whose very look put cheerfulness and hope into his heart.
The young man gave him a wheel and told him to roll it before him on the
plain, and to follow it whithersoever it went. So Cuchulain set the wheel
rolling, and as it went it blazed with light that shot like rays from its
rim, and the heat of it made a firm path across the quagmire, where
Cuchulain followed safely.
When he had passed the Plain of Ill-luck, and escaped the beasts of the
Perilous Glen, he came to the Bridge of the Leaps, beyond which was the
country of Skatha. Here he found on the hither side many sons of the
princes of Ireland who were come to learn feats of war from Skatha, and
they were playing at hurley on the green. And among them was his friend
Ferdia, son of the Firbolg, Daman; and they all asked him of the news from
Ireland. When he had told them all he asked Ferdia how he should pass to
the dūn of Skatha. Now the Bridge of Leaps was very narrow and very high,
and it crossed a gorge where far below swung the tides of a boiling sea,
in which ravenous monsters could be seen swimming.
“Not one of us has crossed that bridge,” said Ferdia, “for there are two
feats that Skatha teaches last, and one is the leap across the bridge, and
the other the thrust of the Gae Bolg.(139) For if a man step upon one end
of that bridge, the middle straightway rises up and flings him back, and
if he leap upon it he may chance to miss his footing and fall into the
gulf, where the sea-monsters are waiting for him.”
But Cuchulain waited till evening, when he had recovered his strength from
his long journey, and then essayed the crossing of the bridge. Three times
he ran towards it from a distance, gathering all his powers together, and
strove to leap upon the middle, but three times it rose against him and
flung him back, while his companions jeered at him because he would not
wait for the help of Skatha. But at the fourth leap he lit fairly on the
centre of the bridge, and with one leap more he was across it, and stood
before the strong fortress of Skatha; and she wondered at his courage and
vigour, and admitted him to be her pupil.
For a year and a day Cuchulain abode with Skatha, and all the feats she
had to teach he learned easily, and last of all she taught him the use of
the Gae Bolg, and gave him that dreadful weapon, which she had deemed no
champion before him good enough to have. And the manner of using the Gae
Bolg was that it was thrown with the foot, and if it entered an enemy’s
body it filled every limb and crevice of him with its barbs. While
Cuchulain dwelt with Skatha his friend above all friends and his rival in
skill and valour was Ferdia, and ere they parted they vowed to love and
help one another as long as they should live.
*Cuchulain and Aifa*
Now whilst Cuchulain was in the Land of the Shadows it chanced that Skatha
made war on the people of the Princess Aifa, who was the fiercest and
strongest of the woman-warriors of the world, so that even Skatha feared
to meet her in arms. On going forth to the war, therefore, Skatha mixed
with Cuchulain’s drink a sleepy herb so that he should not wake for
four-and-twenty hours, by which time the host would be far on its way, for
she feared lest evil should come to him ere he had got his full strength.
But the potion that would have served another man for a day and a night
only held Cuchulain for one hour; and when he waked up he seized his arms
and followed the host by its chariot-tracks till he came up with them.
Then it is said that Skatha uttered a sigh, for she knew that he would not
be restrained from the war.
When the armies met, Cuchulain and the two sons of Skatha wrought great
deeds on the foe, and slew six of the mightiest of Aifa’s warriors. Then
Aifa sent word to Skatha and challenged her to single combat. But
Cuchulain declared that he would meet the fair Fury in place of Skatha,
and he asked first of all what were the things she most valued. “What Aifa
loves most,” said Skatha, “are her two horses, her chariot and her
charioteer.” Then the pair met in single combat, and every champion’s feat
which they knew they tried on each other in vain, till at last a blow of
Aifa’s shattered the sword of Cuchulain to the hilt. At this Cuchulain
cried out: “Ah me! behold the chariot and horses of Aifa, fallen into the
glen!” Aifa glanced round, and Cuchulain, rushing in, seized her round the
waist and slung her over his shoulder and bore her back to the camp of
Skatha. There he flung her on the ground and put his knife to her throat.
She begged for her life, and Cuchulain granted it on condition that she
made a lasting peace with Skatha, and gave hostages for her fulfilment of
the pledge. To this she agreed, and Cuchulain and she became not only
friends but lovers.
*The Tragedy of Cuchulain and Connla*
Before Cuchulain left the Land of Shadows he gave Aifa a golden ring,
saying that if she should bear him a son he was to be sent to seek his
father in Erin so soon as he should have grown so that his finger would
fit the ring. And Cuchulain said, “Charge him under _geise_ that he shall
not make himself known, that he never turn out of the way for any man, nor
ever refuse a combat. And be his name called Connla.”
In later years it is narrated that one day when King Conor of Ulster and
the lords of Ulster were at a festal gathering on the Strand of the
Footprints they saw coming towards them across the sea a little boat of
bronze, and in it a young lad with gilded oars in his hands. In the boat
was a heap of stones, and ever and anon the lad would put one of these
stones into a sling and cast it at a flying sea-bird in such fashion that
it would bring down the bird alive to his feet. And many other wonderful
feats of skill he did. Then Conor said, as the boat drew nearer: “If the
grown men of that lad’s country came here they would surely grind us to
powder. Woe to the land into which that boy shall come!”
When the boy came to land, a messenger, Condery, was sent to bid him be
off. “I will not turn back for thee,” said the lad, and Condery repeated
what he had said to the king. Then Conall of the Victories was sent
against him, but the lad slung a great stone at him, and the whizz and
wind of it knocked him down, and the lad sprang upon him, and bound his
arms with the strap of his shield. And so man after man was served; some
were bound, and some were slain, but the lad defied the whole power of
Ulster to turn him back, nor would he tell his name or lineage.
“Send for Cuchulain,” then said King Conor. And they sent a messenger to
Dundalk, where Cuchulain was with Emer his wife, and bade him come to do
battle against a stranger boy whom Conall of the Victories could not
overcome. Emer threw her arm round Cuchulain’s neck. “Do not go,” she
entreated. “Surely this is the son of Aifa. Slay not thine only son.” But
Cuchulain said: “Forbear, woman! Were it Connla himself I would slay him
for the honour of Ulster,” and he bade yoke his chariot and went to the
Strand. Here he found the boy tossing up his weapons and doing marvellous
feats with them. “Delightful is thy play, boy,” said Cuchulain; “who art
thou and whence dost thou come?” “I may not reveal that,” said the lad.
“Then thou shalt die,” said Cuchulain. “So be it,” said the lad, and then
they fought with swords for a while, till the lad delicately shore off a
lock of Cuchulain’s hair. “Enough of trifling,” said Cuchulain, and they
closed with each other, but the lad planted himself on a rock and stood so
firm that Cuchulain could not move him, and in the stubborn wrestling they
had the lad’s two feet sank deep into the stone and made the footprints
whence the Strand of the Footprints has its name. At last they both fell
into the sea, and Cuchulain was near being drowned, till he bethought
himself of the Gae Bolg, and he drove that weapon against the lad and it
ripped up his belly. “That is what Skatha never taught me,” cried the lad.
“Woe is me, for I am hurt.” Cuchulain looked at him and saw the ring on
his finger. “It is true,” he said; and he took up the boy and bore him on
shore and laid him down before Conor and the lords of Ulster. “Here is my
son for you, men of Ulster,” he said. And the boy said: “It is true. And
if I had five years to grow among you, you would conquer the world on
every side of you and rule as far as Rome. But since it is as it is, point
out to me the famous warriors that are here, that I may know them and take
leave of them before I die.” Then one after another they were brought to
him, and he kissed them and took leave of his father, and he died; and the
men of Ulster made his grave and set up his pillar-stone with great
mourning. This was the only son Cuchulain ever had, and this son he slew.
This tale, as I have given it here, dates from the ninth century, and is
found in the “Yellow Book of Lecan.” There are many other Gaelic versions
of it in poetry and prose. It is one of the earliest extant appearances in
literature of the since well-known theme of the slaying of a heroic son by
his father. The Persian rendering of it in the tale of Sohrab and Rustum
has been made familiar by Matthew Arnold’s fine poem. In the Irish version
it will be noted that the father is not without a suspicion of the
identity of his antagonist, but he does battle with him under the stimulus
of that passionate sense of loyalty to his prince and province which was
Cuchulain’s most signal characteristic.
To complete the story of Aifa and her son we have anticipated events, and
now turn back to take up the thread again.
*Cuchulain’s First Foray*
After a year and a day of training in warfare under Skatha, Cuchulain
returned to Erin, eager to test his prowess and to win Emer for his wife.
So he bade harness his chariot and drove out to make a foray upon the
fords and marches of Connacht, for between Connacht and Ulster there was
always an angry surf of fighting along the borders.
And first he drove to the White Cairn, which is on the highest of the
Mountains of Mourne, and surveyed the land of Ulster spread out smiling in
the sunshine far below and bade his charioteer tell him the name of every
hill and plain and dūn that he saw. Then turning southwards he looked over
the plains of Bregia, and the charioteer pointed out to him Tara and
Teltin, and Brugh na Boyna and the great dūn of the sons of Nechtan. “Are
they,” asked Cuchulain, “those sons of Nechtan of whom it is said that
more of the men of Ulster have fallen by their hands than are yet living
on the earth?” “The same,” said the charioteer. “Then let us drive
thither,” said Cuchulain. So, much unwilling, the charioteer drove to the
fortress of the sons of Nechtan, and there on the green before it they
found a pillar-stone, and round it a collar of bronze having on it writing
in Ogham. This Cuchulain read, and it declared that any man of age to bear
arms who should come to that green should hold it _geis_ for him to depart
without having challenged one of the dwellers in the dūn to single combat.
Then Cuchulain flung his arms round the stone, and, swaying it backwards
and forwards, heaved it at last out of the earth and flung it, collar and
all, into the river that ran hard by. “Surely,” said the charioteer, “thou
art seeking for a violent death, and now thou wilt find it without delay.”
Then Foill son of Nechtan came forth from the dūn, and seeing Cuchulain,
whom he deemed but a lad, he was annoyed. But Cuchulain bade him fetch his
arms, “for I slay not drivers nor messengers nor unarmed men,” and Foill
went back into the dūn. “Thou canst not slay him,” then said the
charioteer, “for he is invulnerable by magic power to the point or edge of
any blade.” But Cuchulain put in his sling a ball of tempered iron, and
when Foill appeared he slung at him so that it struck his forehead, and
went clean through brain and skull; and Cuchulain took his head and bound
it to his chariot-rim. And other sons of Nechtan, issuing forth, he fought
with and slew by sword or spear; and then he fired the dūn and left it in
a blaze and drove on exultant. And on the way he saw a flock of wild
swans, and sixteen of them he brought down alive with his sling, and tied
them to the chariot; and seeing a herd of wild deer which his horses could
not overtake he lighted down and chased them on foot till he caught two
great stags, and with thongs and ropes he made them fast to the chariot.
But at Emain Macha a scout of King Conor came running in to give him news.
“Behold, a solitary chariot is approaching swiftly over the plain; wild
white birds flutter round it and wild stags are tethered to it; it is
decked all round with the bleeding heads of enemies.” And Conor looked to
see who was approaching, and he saw that Cuchulain was in his battle-fury,
and would deal death around him whomsoever he met; so he hastily gave
order that a troop of the women of Emania should go forth to meet him,
and, having stripped off their clothing, should stand naked in the way.
This they did, and when the lad saw them, smitten with shame, he bowed his
head upon the chariot-rim. Then Conor’s men instantly seized him and
plunged him into a vat of cold water which had been made ready, but the
water boiled around him and the staves and hoops of the vat were burst
asunder. This they did again and yet again, and at last his fury left him,
and his natural form and aspect were restored. Then they clad him in fresh
raiment and bade him in to the feast in the king’s banqueting-hall.
*The Winning of Emer*
Next day he went to the dūn of Forgall the Wily, father of Emer, and he
leaped “the hero’s salmon leap,” that he had learned of Skatha, over the
high ramparts of the dūn. Then the mighty men of Forgall set on him, and
he dealt but three blows, and each blow slew eight men, and Forgall
himself fell lifeless in leaping from the rampart of the dūn to escape
Cuchulain. So he carried off Emer and her foster-sister and two loads of
gold and silver. But outside the dūn the sister of Forgall raised a host
against him, and his battle-fury came on him, and furious were the blows
he dealt, so that the ford of Glondath ran blood and the turf on Crofot
was trampled into bloody mire. A hundred he slew at every ford from Olbiny
to the Boyne; and so was Emer won as she desired, and he brought her to
Emain Macha and made her his wife, and they were not parted again until he
died.
*Cuchulain Champion of Erin*
A lord of Ulster named Briccriu of the Poisoned Tongue once made a feast
to which he bade King Conor and all the heroes of the Red Branch, and
because it was always his delight to stir up strife among men or women he
set the heroes contending among themselves as to who was the champion of
the land of Erin. At last it was agreed that the championship must lie
among three of them, namely, Cuchulain, and Conall of the Victories and
Laery the Triumphant. To decide between these three a demon named The
Terrible was summoned from a lake in the depth of which he dwelt. He
proposed to the heroes a test of courage. Any one of them, he said, might
cut off his head to-day provided that he, the claimant of the
championship, would lay down his own head for the axe to-morrow. Conall
and Laery shrank from the test, but Cuchulain accepted it, and after
reciting a charm over his sword, he cut off the head of the demon, who
immediately rose, and taking the bleeding head in one hand and his axe in
the other, plunged into the lake.
Next day he reappeared, whole and sound, to claim the fulfilment of the
bargain. Cuchulain, quailing but resolute, laid his head on the block.
“Stretch out your neck, wretch,” cried the demon; “’tis too short for me
to strike at.” Cuchulain does as he is bidden. The demon swings his axe
thrice over his victim, brings down the butt with a crash on the block,
and then bids Cuchulain rise unhurt, Champion of Ireland and her boldest
man.
*Deirdre and the Sons of Usna*
We have now to turn to a story in which Cuchulain takes no part. It is the
chief of the preliminary tales to the Cattle-spoil of Quelgny.
There was among the lords of Ulster, it is said, one named Felim son of
Dall, who on a certain day made a great feast for the king. And the king
came with his Druid Cathbad, and Fergus mac Roy, and many heroes of the
Red Branch, and while they were making merry over the roasted flesh and
wheaten cakes and Greek wine a messenger from the women’s apartments came
to tell Felim that his wife had just borne him a daughter. So all the
lords and warriors drank health to the new-born infant, and the king bade
Cathbade perform divination in the manner of the Druids and foretell what
the future would have in store for Felim’s babe. Cathbad gazed upon the
stars and drew the horoscope of the child, and he was much troubled; and
at length he said: “The infant shall be fairest among the women of Erin,
and shall wed a king, but because of her shall death and ruin come upon
the Province of Ulster.” Then the warriors would have put her to death
upon the spot, but Conor forbade them. “I will avert the doom,” he said,
“for she shall wed no foreign king, but she shall be my own mate when she
is of age.” So he took away the child, and committed it to his nurse
Levarcam, and the name they gave it was Deirdre. And Conor charged
Levarcam that the child should be brought up in a strong dūn in the
solitude of a great wood, and that no young man should see her or she him
until she was of marriageable age for the king to wed. And there she
dwelt, seeing none but her nurse and Cathbad, and sometimes the king, now
growing an aged man, who would visit the dūn from time to time to see that
all was well with the folk there, and that his commands were observed.
One day, when the time for the marriage of Deirdre and Conor was drawing
near, Deirdre and Levarcam looked over the rampart of their dūn. It was
winter, a heavy snow had fallen in the night, and in the still, frosty air
the trees stood up as if wrought in silver, and the green before the dūn
was a sheet of unbroken white, save that in one place a scullion had
killed a calf for their dinner, and the blood of the calf lay on the snow.
And as Deirdre looked, a raven lit down from a tree hard by and began to
sip the blood. “O nurse,” cried Deirdre suddenly, “such, and not like
Conor, would be the man that I would love—his hair like the raven’s wing,
and in his cheek the hue of blood, and his skin as white as snow.” “Thou
hast pictured a man of Conor’s household,” said the nurse. “Who is he?”
asked Deirdre. “He is Naisi, son of Usna,(140) a champion of the Red
Branch,” said the nurse. Thereupon Deirdre entreated Levarcam to bring her
to speak with Naisi; and because the old woman loved the girl and would
not have her wedded to the aged king, she at last agreed. Deirdre implored
Naisi to save her from Conor, but he would not, till at last her
entreaties and her beauty won him, and he vowed to be hers. Then secretly
one night he came with his two brethren, Ardan and Ainlé, and bore away
Deirdre with Levarcam, and they escaped the king’s pursuit and took ship
for Scotland, where Naisi took service with the King of the Picts. Yet
here they could not rest, for the king got sight of Deirdre, and would
have taken her from Naisi, but Naisi with his brothers escaped, and in the
solitude of Glen Etive they made their dwelling by the lake, and there
lived in the wild wood by hunting and fishing, seeing no man but
themselves and their servants.
And the years went by and Conor made no sign, but he did not forget, and
his spies told him of all that befell Naisi and Deirdre. At last, judging
that Naisi and his brothers would have tired of solitude, he sent the
bosom friend of Naisi, Fergus son of Roy, to bid them return, and to
promise them that all would be forgiven. Fergus went joyfully, and
joyfully did Naisi and his brothers hear the message, but Deirdre foresaw
evil, and would fain have sent Fergus home alone. But Naisi blamed her for
her doubt and suspicion, and bade her mark that they were under the
protection of Fergus, whose safeguard no king in Ireland would dare to
violate; and they at last made ready to go.
On landing in Ireland they were met by Baruch, a lord of the Red Branch,
who had his dūn close by, and he bade Fergus to a feast he had prepared
for him that night. “I may not stay,” said Fergus, “for I must first
convey Deirdre and the sons of Usna safely to Emain Macha.”
“Nevertheless,” said Baruch, “thou must stay with me to-night, for it is a
_geis_ for thee to refuse a feast.” Deirdre implored him not to leave
them, but Fergus was tempted by the feast, and feared to break his _geis_,
and he bade his two sons Illan the Fair and Buino the Red take charge of
the party in his place, and he himself abode with Baruch.
And so the party came to Emain Macha, and they were lodged in the House of
the Red Branch, but Conor did not receive them. After the evening meal, as
he sat, drinking heavily and silently, he sent a messenger to bid Levarcam
come before him. “How is it with the sons of Usna?” he said to her. “It is
well,” she said. “Thou hast got the three most valorous champions in
Ulster in thy court. Truly the king who has those three need fear no
enemy.” “Is it well with Deirdre?” he asked. “She is well,” said the
nurse, “but she has lived many years in the wildwood, and toil and care
have changed her—little of her beauty of old now remains to her, O King.”
Then the king dismissed her, and sat drinking again. But after a while he
called to him a servant named Trendorn, and bade him go to the Red Branch
House and mark who was there and what they did. But when Trendorn came the
place was bolted and barred for the night, and he could not get an
entrance, and at last he mounted on a ladder and looked in at a high
window. And there he saw the brothers of Naisi and the sons of Fergus, as
they talked or cleaned their arms, or made them ready for slumber, and
there sat Naisi with a chess-board before him, and playing chess with him
was the fairest of women that he had ever seen. But as he looked in wonder
at the noble pair, suddenly one caught sight of him and rose with a cry,
pointing to the face at the window. And Naisi looked up and saw it, and
seizing a chessman from the board he hurled it at the face of the spy, and
it struck out his eye. Then Trendorn hastily descended, and went back with
his bloody face to the king. “I have seen them,” he cried, “I have seen
the fairest woman of the world, and but that Naisi had struck my eye out I
had been looking on her still.”
Then Conor arose and called for his guards and bade them bring the sons of
Usna before him for maiming his messenger. And the guards went; but first
Buino, son of Fergus, with his retinue, met them, and at the sword’s point
drove them back; but Naisi and Deirdre continued quietly to play chess,
“For,” said Naisi, “it is not seemly that we should seek to defend
ourselves while we are under the protection of the sons of Fergus.” But
Conor went to Buino, and with a great gift of lands he bought him over to
desert his charge. Then Illan took up the defence of the Red Branch
Hostel, but the two sons of Conor slew him. And then at last Naisi and his
brothers seized their weapons and rushed amid the foe, and many were they
who fell before the onset. Then Conor entreated Cathbad the Druid to cast
spells upon them lest they should get away and become the enemies of the
province, and he vowed to do them no hurt if they were taken alive. So
Cathbad conjured up, as it were, a lake of slime that seemed to be about
the feet of the sons of Usna, and they could not tear their feet from it,
and Naisi caught up Deirdre and put her on his shoulder, for they seemed
to be sinking in the slime. Then the guards and servants of Conor seized
and bound them and brought them before the king. And the king called upon
man after man to come forward and slay the sons of Usna, but none would
obey him, till at last Owen son of Duracht and Prince of Ferney came and
took the sword of Naisi, and with one sweep he shore off the heads of all
three, and so they died.
Then Conor took Deirdre perforce, and for a year she abode with him in the
palace in Emain Macha, but during all that time she never smiled. At
length Conor said: “What is it that you hate most of all on earth,
Deirdre?” And she said: “Thou thyself and Owen son of Duracht,” and Owen
was standing by. “Then thou shalt go to Owen for a year,” said Conor. But
when Deirdre mounted the chariot behind Owen she kept her eyes on the
ground, for she would not look on those who thus tormented her; and Conor
said, taunting her: “Deirdre, the glance of thee between me and Owen is
the glance of a ewe between two rams.” Then Deirdre started up, and,
flinging herself head foremost from the chariot, she dashed her head
against a rock and fell dead.
And when they buried her it is said there grew from her grave and from
Naisi’s two yew-trees, whose tops, when they were full-grown, met each
other over the roof of the great church of Armagh, and intertwined
together, and none could part them.
*The Rebellion of Fergus*
When Fergus mac Roy came home to Emain Macha after the feast to which
Baruch bade him and found the sons of Usna slain and one of his own sons
dead and the other a traitor, he broke out against Conor in a storm of
wrath and cursing, and vowed to be avenged on him with fire and sword. And
he went off straightway to Connacht to take service of arms with Ailell
and Maev, who were king and queen of that country.
*Queen Maev*
But though Ailell was king, Maev was the ruler in truth, and ordered all
things as she wished, and took what husbands she wished, and dismissed
them at pleasure; for she was as fierce and strong as a goddess of war,
and knew no law but her own wild will. She was tall, it is said, with a
long, pale face and masses of hair yellow as ripe corn. When Fergus came
to her in her palace at Rathcroghan in Roscommon she gave him her love, as
she had given it to many before, and they plotted together how to attack
and devastate the Province of Ulster.
*The Brown Bull of Quelgny*
Now it happened that Maev possessed a famous red bull with white front and
horns named Finnbenach, and one day when she and Ailell were counting up
their respective possessions and matching them against each other he
taunted her because the Finnbenach would not stay in the hands of a woman,
but had attached himself to Ailell’s herd. So Maev in vexation went to her
steward, mac Roth, and asked of him if there were anywhere in Erin a bull
as fine as the Finnbenach. “Truly,” said the steward, “there is—for the
Brown Bull of Quelgny, that belongs to Dara son of Fachtna, is the
mightiest beast that is in Ireland.” And after that Maev felt as if she
had no flocks and herds that were worth anything at all unless she
possessed the Brown Bull of Quelgny. But this was in Ulster, and the
Ulstermen knew the treasure they possessed, and Maev knew that they would
not give up the bull without fighting for it. So she and Fergus and Ailell
agreed to make a foray against Ulster for the Brown Bull, and thus to
enter into war with the province, for Fergus longed for vengeance, and
Maev for fighting, for glory, and for the bull, and Ailell to satisfy
Maev.
Here let us note that this contest for the bull, which is the ostensible
theme of the greatest of Celtic legendary tales, the “Tain Bo Cuailgné,”
has a deeper meaning than appears on the surface. An ancient piece of
Aryan mythology is embedded in it. The Brown Bull is the Celtic
counterpart of the Hindu sky-deity, Indra, represented in Hindu myth as a
mighty bull, whose roaring is the thunder and who lets loose the rains
“like cows streaming forth to pasture.” The advance of the Western
(Connacht) host for the capture of this bull is emblematic of the onset of
Night. The bull is defended by the solar hero Cuchulain, who, however, is
ultimately overthrown and the bull is captured for a season. The two
animals in the Celtic legend probably typify the sky in different aspects.
They are described with a pomp and circumstance which shows that they are
no common beasts. Once, we are told, they were swineherds of the people of
Dana. “They had been successively transformed into two ravens, two
sea-monsters, two warriors, two demons, two worms or animalculae, and
finally into two kine.”(141) The Brown Bull is described as having a back
broad enough for fifty children to play on; when he is angry with his
keeper he stamps the man thirty feet into the ground; he is likened to a
sea wave, to a bear, to a dragon, a lion, the writer heaping up images of
strength and savagery. We are therefore concerned with no ordinary
cattle-raid, but with a myth, the features of which are discernible under
the dressing given it by the fervid imagination of the unknown Celtic bard
who composed the “Tain,” although the exact meaning of every detail may be
difficult to ascertain.
The first attempt of Maev to get possession of the bull was to send an
embassy to Dara to ask for the loan of him for a year, the recompense
offered being fifty heifers, besides the bull himself back, and if Dara
chose to settle in Connacht he should have as much land there as he now
possessed in Ulster, and a chariot worth thrice seven _cumals_,(142) with
the patronage and friendship of Maev.
Dara was at first delighted with the prospect, but tales were borne to him
of the chatter of Maev’s messengers, and how they said that if the bull
was not yielded willingly it would be taken by force; and he sent back a
message of refusal and defiance. “’Twas known,” said Maev, “the bull will
not be yielded by fair means; he shall now be won by foul.” And so she
sent messengers around on every side to summon her hosts for the Raid.
*The Hosting of Queen Maev*
And there came all the mighty men of Connacht—first the seven Mainés, sons
of Ailell and Maev, each with his retinue; and Ket and Anluan, sons of
Maga, with thirty hundreds of armed men; and yellow-haired Ferdia, with
his company of Firbolgs, boisterous giants who delighted in war and in
strong ale. And there came also the allies of Maev—a host of the men of
Leinster, who so excelled the rest in warlike skill that they were broken
up and distributed among the companies of Connacht, lest they should prove
a danger to the host; and Cormac son of Conor, with Fergus mac Roy and
other exiles from Ulster, who had revolted against Conor for his treachery
to the sons of Usna.
*Ulster under the Curse*
But before the host set forth towards Ulster Maev sent her spies into the
land to tell her of the preparations there being made. And the spies
brought back a wondrous tale, and one that rejoiced the heart of Maev, for
they said that the Debility of the Ultonians(143) had descended on the
province. Conor the king lay in pangs at Emain Macha, and his son Cuscrid
in his island-fortress, and Owen Prince of Ferney was helpless as a child;
Celtchar, the huge grey warrior, son of Uthecar Hornskin, and even Conall
of the Victories, lay moaning and writhing on their beds, and there was no
hand in Ulster that could lift a spear.
*Prophetic Voices*
Nevertheless Maev went to her chief Druid, and demanded of him what her
own lot in the war should be. And the Druid said only: “Whoever comes hack
in safety, or comes not, thou thyself shalt come.” But on her journey back
she saw suddenly standing before her chariot-pole a young maiden with
tresses of yellow hair that fell below her knees, and clad in a mantle of
green; and with a shuttle of gold she wove a fabric upon a loom. “Who art
thou, girl?” said Maev, “and what dost thou?” “I am the prophetess,
Fedelma, from the Fairy Mound of Croghan,” said the maid, “and I weave the
four provinces of Ireland together for the foray into Ulster.” “How seest
thou our host?” asked Maev. “I see them all be-crimsoned, red,” replied
the prophetess. “Yet the Ulster heroes are all in their pangs—there is
none that can lift a spear against us,” said Maev. “I see the host all
becrimsoned,” said Fedelma. “I see a man of small stature, but the hero’s
light is on his brow—a stripling young and modest, but in battle a dragon;
he is like unto Cuchulain of Murthemney; he doth wondrous feats with his
weapons; by him your slain shall lie thickly.”(144)
At this the vision of the weaving maiden vanished, and Maev drove
homewards to Rathcroghan wondering at what she had seen and heard.
*Cuchulain Puts the Host under Geise*
On the morrow the host set forth, Fergus mac Roy leading them, and as they
neared the confines of Ulster he bade them keep sharp watch lest Cuchulain
of Murthemney, who guarded the passes of Ulster to the south, should fall
upon them unawares. Now Cuchulain and his father Sualtam(145) were on the
borders of the province, and Cuchulain, from a warning Fergus had sent
him, suspected the approach of a great host, and bade Sualtam go
northwards to Emania and warn the men of Ulster. But Cuchulain himself
would not stay there, for he said he had a tryst to keep with a handmaid
of the wife of Laery the _bodach_ (farmer), so he went into the forest,
and there, standing on one leg, and using only one hand and one eye, he
cut an oak sapling and twisted it into a circular withe. On this he cut in
Ogham characters how the withe was made, and he put the host of Maev under
_geise_ not to pass by that place till one of them had, under similar
conditions, made a similar withe; “and I except my friend Fergus mac Roy,”
he added, and wrote his name at the end. Then he placed the withe round
the pillar-stone of Ardcullin, and went his way to keep his tryst with the
handmaid.(146)
When the host of Maev came to Ardcullin, the withe upon the pillar-stone
was found and brought to Fergus to decipher it. There was none amongst the
host who could emulate the feat of Cuchulain, and so they went into the
wood and encamped for the night. A heavy snowfall took place, and they
were all in much distress, but next day the sun rose gloriously, and over
the white plain they marched away into Ulster, counting the prohibition as
extending only for one night.
*The Ford of the Forked Pole*
Cuchulain now followed hard on their track, and as he went he estimated by
the tracks they had left the number of the host at eighteen _triucha cét_
(54,000 men). Circling round the host, he now met them in front, and soon
came upon two chariots containing scouts sent ahead by Maev. These he
slew, each man with his driver, and having with one sweep of his sword cut
a forked pole of four prongs from the wood, he drove the pole deep into a
river-ford at the place called Athgowla,(147) and impaled on each prong a
bloody head. When the host came up they wondered and feared at the sight,
and Fergus declared that they were under _geise_ not to pass that ford
till one of them had plucked out the pole even as it was driven in, with
the fingertips of one hand. So Fergus drove into the water to essay the
feat, and seventeen chariots were broken under him as he tugged at the
pole, but at last he tore it out; and as it was now late the host encamped
upon the spot. These devices of Cuchulain were intended to delay the
invaders until the Ulster men had recovered from their debility.
In the epic, as given in the Book of Leinster, and other ancient sources,
a long interlude now takes place in which Fergus explains to Maev who it
is—viz., “my little pupil Setanta”—who is thus harrying the host, and his
boyish deeds, some of which have been already told in this narrative, are
recounted.
*The Charioteer of Orlam*
The host proceeded on its way next day, and the next encounter with
Cuchulain shows the hero in a kindlier mood. He hears a noise of timber
being cut, and going into a wood he finds there a charioteer belonging to
a son of Ailell and Maev cutting down chariot-poles of holly, “For,” says
he, “we have damaged our chariots sadly in chasing that famous deer,
Cuchulain.” Cuchulain—who, it must be remembered, was at ordinary times a
slight and unimposing figure, though in battle he dilated in size and
underwent a fearful distortion, symbolic of Berserker fury—helps the
driver in his work. “Shall I,” he asks, “cut the poles or trim them for
thee?” “Do thou the trimming,” says the driver. Cuchulain takes the poles
by the tops and draws them against the set of the branches through his
toes, and then runs his fingers down them the same way, and gives them
over as smooth and polished as if they were planed by a carpenter. The
driver stares at him. “I doubt this work I set thee to is not thy proper
work,” he says. “Who art thou then at all?” “I am that Cuchulain of whom
thou spakest but now.” “Surely I am but a dead man,” says the driver.
“Nay,” replies Cuchulain, “I slay not drivers nor messengers nor men
unarmed. But run, tell thy master Orlam that Cuchulain is about to visit
him.” The driver runs off, but Cuchulain outstrips him, meets Orlam first,
and strikes off his head. For a moment the host of Maev see him as he
shakes this bloody trophy before them; then he disappears from sight—it is
the first glimpse they have caught of their persecutor.
*The Battle-Frenzy of Cuchulain*
A number of scattered episodes now follow. The host of Maev spreads out
and devastates the territories of Bregia and of Murthemney, but they
cannot advance further into Ulster. Cuchulain hovers about them
continually, slaying them by twos and threes, and no man knows where he
will swoop next. Maev herself is awed when, by the bullets of an unseen
slinger, a squirrel and a pet bird are killed as they sit upon her
shoulders. Afterwards, as Cuchulain’s wrath grows fiercer, he descends
with supernatural might upon whole companies of the Connacht host, and
hundreds fall at his onset. The characteristic distortion or _riastradh_
which seized him in his battle-frenzy is then described. He became a
fearsome and multiform creature such as never was known before. Every
particle of him quivered like a bulrush in a running stream. His calves
and heels and hams shifted to the front, and his feet and knees to the
back, and the muscles of his neck stood out like the head of a young
child. One eye was engulfed deep in his head, the other protruded, his
mouth met his ears, foam poured from his jaws like the fleece of a
three-year-old wether. The beats of his heart sounded like the roars of a
lion as he rushes on his prey. A light blazed above his head, and “his
hair became tangled about as it had been the branches of a red thorn-bush
stuffed into the gap of a fence.... Taller, thicker, more rigid, longer
than the mast of a great ship was the perpendicular jet of dusky blood
which out of his scalp’s very central point shot upwards and was there
scattered to the four cardinal points, whereby was formed a magic mist of
gloom resembling the smoky pall that drapes a regal dwelling, what time a
king at nightfall of a winter’s day draws near to it.”(148)
Such was the imagery by which Gaelic writers conveyed the idea of
superhuman frenzy. At the sight of Cuchulain in his paroxysm it is said
that once a hundred of Maev’s warriors fell dead from horror.
*The Compact of the Ford*
Maev now tried to tempt him by great largesse to desert the cause of
Ulster, and had a colloquy with him, the two standing on opposite sides of
a glen across which they talked. She scanned him closely, and was struck
by his slight and boyish appearance. She failed to move him from his
loyalty to Ulster, and death descends more thickly than ever upon the
Connacht host; the men are afraid to move out for plunder save in twenties
and thirties, and at night the stones from Cuchulain’s sling whistle
continually through the camp, braining or maiming. At last, through the
mediation of Fergus, an agreement was come to. Cuchulain undertook not to
harry the host provided they would only send against him one champion at a
time, whom Cuchulain would meet in battle at the ford of the River Dee,
which is now called the Ford of Ferdia.(149) While each fight was in
progress the host might move on, but when it was ended they must encamp
till the morrow morning. “Better to lose one man a day than a hundred,”
said Maev, and the pact was made.
*Fergus and Cuchulain*
Several single combats are then narrated, in which Cuchulain is always a
victor. Maev even persuades Fergus to go against him, but Fergus and
Cuchulain will on no account fight each other, and Cuchulain, by agreement
with Fergus, pretends to fly before him, on Fergus’s promise that he will
do the same for Cuchulain when required. How this pledge was kept we shall
see later.
*Capture of the Brown Bull*
During one of Cuchulain’s duels with a famous champion, Natchrantal, Maev,
with a third of her army, makes a sudden foray into Ulster and penetrates
as far as Dunseverick, on the northern coast, plundering and ravaging as
they go. The Brown Bull, who was originally at Quelgny (Co. Down), has
been warned at an earlier stage by the Morrigan(150) to withdraw himself,
and he has taken refuge, with his herd of cows, in a glen of
Slievegallion, Co. Armagh. The raiders of Maev find him there, and drive
him off with the herd in triumph, passing Cuchulain as they return.
Cuchulain slays the leader of the escort—Buic son of Banblai—but cannot
rescue the Bull, and “this,” it is said, “was the greatest affront put on
Cuchulain during the course of the raid.”
*The Morrigan*
The raid ought now to have ceased, for its object has been attained, but
by this time the hostings of the four southern provinces(151) had gathered
together under Maev for the plunder of Ulster, and Cuchulain remained
still the solitary warder of the marches. Nor did Maev keep her agreement,
for bands of twenty warriors at a time were loosed against him and he had
much ado to defend himself. The curious episode of the fight with the
Morrigan now occurs. A young woman clad in a mantle of many colours
appears to Cuchulain, telling him that she is a king’s daughter, attracted
by the tales of his great exploits, and she has come to offer him her
love. Cuchulain tells her rudely that he is worn and harassed with war and
has no mind to concern himself with women. “It shall go hard with thee,”
then said the maid, “when thou hast to do with men, and I shall be about
thy feet as an eel in the bottom of the Ford.” Then she and her chariot
vanished from his sight and he saw but a crow sitting on a branch of a
tree, and he knew that he had spoken with the Morrigan.
*The Fight with Loch*
The next champion sent against him by Maev was Loch son of Mofebis. To
meet this hero it is said that Cuchulain had to stain his chin with
blackberry juice so as to simulate a beard, lest Loch should disdain to do
combat with a boy. So they fought in the Ford, and the Morrigan came
against him in the guise of a white heifer with red ears, but Cuchulain
fractured her eye with a cast of his spear. Then she came swimming up the
river like a black eel and twisted herself about his legs, and ere he
could rid himself of her Loch wounded him. Then she attacked him as a grey
wolf, and again, before he could subdue her, he was wounded by Loch. At
this his battle-fury took hold of him and he drove the Gae Bolg against
Loch, splitting his heart in two. “Suffer me to rise,” said Loch, “that I
may fall on my face on thy side of the ford, and not backward toward the
men of Erin.” “It is a warrior’s boon thou askest,” said Cuchulain, “and
it is granted.” So Loch died; and a great despondency, it is said, now
fell upon Cuchulain, for he was outwearied with continued fighting, and
sorely wounded, and he had never slept since the beginning of the raid,
save leaning upon his spear; and he sent his charioteer, Laeg, to see if
he could rouse the men of Ulster to come to his aid at last.
*Lugh the Protector*
But as he lay at evening by the grave mound of Lerga in gloom and
dejection, watching the camp-fires of the vast army encamped over against
him and the glitter of their innumerable spears, he saw coming through the
host a tall and comely warrior who strode impetuously forward, and none of
the companies through which he passed turned his head to look at him or
seemed to see him. He wore a tunic of silk embroidered with gold, and a
green mantle fastened with a silver brooch; in one hand was a black shield
bordered with silver and two spears in the other. The stranger came to
Cuchulain and spoke gently and sweetly to him of his long toil and waking,
and his sore wounds, and said in the end: “Sleep now, Cuchulain, by the
grave in Lerga; sleep and slumber deeply for three days, and for that time
I will take thy place and defend the Ford against the host of Maev.” Then
Cuchulain sank into a profound slumber and trance, and the stranger laid
healing balms of magical power to his wounds so that he awoke whole and
refreshed, and for the time that Cuchulain slept the stranger held the
Ford against the host. And Cuchulain knew that this was Lugh his father,
who had come from among the People of Dana to help his son through his
hour of gloom and despair.
*The Sacrifice of the Boy Corps*
But still the men of Ulster lay helpless. Now there was at Emain Macha a
band of thrice fifty boys, the sons of all the chieftains of the
provinces, who were there being bred up in arms and in noble ways, and
these suffered not from the curse of Macha, for it fell only on grown men.
But when they heard of the sore straits in which Cuchulain, their playmate
not long ago, was lying they put on their light armour and took their
weapons and went forth for the honour of Ulster, under Conor’s young son,
Follaman, to aid him. And Follaman vowed that he would never return to
Emania without the diadem of Ailell as a trophy. Three times they drove
against the host of Maev, and thrice their own number fell before them,
but in the end they were overwhelmed and slain, not one escaping alive.
*The Carnage of Murthemney*
This was done as Cuchulain lay in his trance, and when he awoke, refreshed
and well, and heard what had been done, his frenzy came upon him and he
leaped into his war-chariot and drove furiously round and round the host
of Maev. And the chariot ploughed the earth till the ruts were like the
ramparts of a fortress, and the scythes upon its wheels caught and mangled
the bodies of the crowded host till they were piled like a wall around the
camp, and as Cuchulain shouted in his wrath the demons and goblins and
wild things in Erin yelled in answer, so that with the terror and the
uproar the host of men heaved and surged hither and thither, and many
perished from each other’s weapons, and many from horror and fear. And
this was the great carnage, called the Carnage of Murthemney, that
Cuchulain did to avenge the boy-corps of Emania; six score and ten princes
were then slain of the host of Maev, besides horses and women and
wolf-dogs and common folk without number. It is said that Lugh mac Ethlinn
fought there by his son.
*The Clan Calatin*